


It means nothing

by HollyMartins



Series: Fem!Eggsy and Harry Collection [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: And we need more female!Eggsy, F/M, Female Eggsy, Fix-It, Harry Hart Lives, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I can't stop thinking about Hartwin, Language, Mention of Domestic Violence, Merlin and Lancelot are bros, Merlin is a good friend, Post-Canon Fix-It, mention of racial violence, they probably act a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyMartins/pseuds/HollyMartins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was never dead, to begin with.</p><p>And Eggsy is having difficulty with this fact.</p><p>-- </p><p>Harry is the new Arthur and fem!Eggsy is the new Bedivere (because we could always use more always-a-girl!Eggsy).</p><p>Together they attempt to understand one another and this thing between them. Whatever it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally saw Kingsman and I got just what I needed: another ship. Great.
> 
> Being a longtime Colin Firth fan and Taron's puppy-like worshiping of Harry didn't help but if there's one thing I think this fandom needs, it's more female!Eggsy. So I'm trying my hand at that.
> 
> Hartwin has inspired me so much that I've even decided to create a tumblr for my writings and shipping: http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> Please visit and drop me a line and even send me prompts! I'm desperate to keep writing!

When Harry first wakes up, he is immediately aware of being pinned down under the weight of his own migraine. His eyes are being stabbed by the light, his neck is immobile, his stomach won’t stop lurching, and it rather feels like his brain is trying to burst out of his skull. So he closes his eyes and waits for the darkness to claim him again. It does.

The second time he wakes up, his head is feeling much better and he is not surprised to find himself alone in a Kingsman hospital room. He always seemed to wake up in them alone. 

Without allowing any self-pity, he presses the call button and is greeted by a nurse and a doctor who proceeded to explain how lucky he was that the bulletproof glasses did their job and prevented the bullet from actually doing substantial damage. Aside from being clipped in the temple and smacking his head on the concrete ground (and the superficial stab and gunshot wounds from the church massacre), he is quite well. Though, of course, there would be more tests and he isn’t as young as he used to be; bed rest was required and absolutely no working for the next few weeks.

He ignores this and requests Merlin’s presence. The nurse and doctor glance at one another and upon seeing his clenched jaw, they agree. Merlin arrives in less than three minutes.

“Welcome back, Harry,” he says pleasantly, his ever-present clipboard in his hand.

Harry raises an eyebrow at the use of his Christian name, and then found it hurt to do that. He opens his mouth and clears his throat.

“How,” he started between coughs, “how long?”

Merlin hands him a cup of cool water and does not hesitate to hold the straw steady for him as he sipped.

“Two weeks since V-Day,” he answered. “Lancelot and your Eggsy saved the world and then helped turn it to shit. Well, I helped on that end, too.”

A tiny, sadistic part of his mind wants to reply, She’s not my Eggsy but he is rather too tired to argue the point. 

“What happened?” he asks instead.

Merlin gives him a brief summary of the events of V-Day and afterwards, including the destruction of major heads of governments (quite literally) and several nations falling into near chaos and demanding answers from those left behind. The Kingsman organization is stretched thin and the search for a new Arthur in the Great Britain branch has still not been fruitful. 

“I’ve been both Merlin and Arthur for the most part,” Merlin says, placing the cup on the bedside table. “Fucking hate it.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Harry replies, remembering how Merlin always complained when he was left in charge of anyone other than himself and the new recruits. “And Eggsy? Is she…”

“Knighted? Yes, Bedivere.”

“A reliable and loyal ally to Arthur,” Harry murmurs.

“And one not above using black magic against his foes,” Merlin added, “causing many to ask for his death.”

“All the more appropriate,” Harry replies. “Does she know?”

“None of the other lower Kingsmen are aware that you are alive and well,” Merlin says, his fingers swiping quickly at his clipboard. “And absolutely no one here is aware of what I am about to ask you: will you take on the role of Arthur?”

“I fucking knew you were going to say that,” Harry sighs.

 

It takes a great deal of convincing (or arguing) before Harry agrees to consider the job. After all, he’s a field agent. He loves being out there, working among the shadows and the danger. It’s what he was meant to do, why he was put on this earth.

But, after all, what’s the point of a career if one doesn’t grow and climb up the ladder? 

These are the things he tells Merlin. He does not tell him that the reason why he ultimately decided to try on the mantle of Arthur was played to him on a fucking tablet.

Merlin had given him the debriefing notes from V-Day and then the video footage from both Lancelot and Eg- Bedivere. Harry had watched, propped up in his hospital bed, quite proud and if he was smiling at the screen, well, it was the middle of the night and there was no one else in the room.

Then V-Day ended. Lancelot blew up the missile and was picked up by Merlin. She drank champagne with him on the plane. And Eggsy… Eggsy kept her glasses on while she fucked some blond Scandinavian princess.

Harry isn’t sure if she had merely forgotten to remove them or if she wanted it to be seen. But Harry saw. And he hated it.

Rationally, he knows he shouldn’t feel anything about it. Lots of agents celebrate their post-mission victories with a little tumble in the sheets with the closest available body. Christ, he had done it plenty of times himself (though, he had to admit, it hadn’t been until his third mission and he hadn’t shagged royalty until his eighth, and he had only been some duke of no consequence). 

But somehow, hearing Eggsy’s breathy moans and that princess’ high-pitched whines are particularly unpleasant to Harry. 

So he accepts Merlin’s offer, if only so that he could keep sending Bedivere away to far off missions and remain locked up in his office. Alone.

 

Harry is instated as Arthur with little pomp and ceremony. The world is still healing and there is no time for something as self-indulgent as a full formal swearing in ritual. So, as soon as the doctors agree to release him to deskwork, he quite seamlessly steps into the role. The global Kingsman HQs were made aware of the new Arthur, as were the hundreds in Great Britain who worked to keep Kingsman well oiled and efficient. All that was left was to inform the knights.

“You always did have a flair for the theatrical,” Merlin grumbles the night before the first Kingsman meeting with the new Arthur.

“Of course,” Harry says, loosening his tie and enjoying his first full day in a suit and not a stuffy robe over a hospital gown, “you remember I played the ghost in Hamlet at uni.”

“Ironic,” Merlin sighs. “Let’s just hope you don’t drive another person mad by appearing tomorrow.”

Harry doesn’t have to ask who he means.

 

The other Kingsmen acknowledge the new Arthur as the efficient, if slightly rebellious, Harry Hart and are cordial and respectful to him. He recognizes them all and is grateful to see that Valentine had only managed to get ahold of the previous Arthur and none of the others. There have been deaths, of course, in the aftermath of V-Day but thank God no more traitors.

Harry is sitting at the head of the table, glasses on, suit pressed, and not a hair out of place when Lancelot walks in. She nods to Merlin and Percival and to her credit, merely widens her eyes slightly at the sight of the very much alive Harry Hart.

Chivalrous as always, Harry stands and accepts her hand.

“Congratulations, sir,” she says firmly, as if it were completely natural to shake hands with a ghost, “glad to have you back.”

“Thank you, Lancelot,” he replies, “and well done on all your hard work during the V-Day mission. Your fear of heights has been conquered, I see.”

She allows a quirk of a smile and Harry smiles back, pleased to see her so calm and confident and comfortable in her skin. He drops her hand when the door opens again and two more newly christened Kingsmen walk in, followed by her.

Eggsy is flushed and her hair is windswept and her eyes land on Roxy first, grinning.

“Thought you’d forgot about me,” she begins and then stops when Roxy takes one step back, bringing Harry into her line of vision.

She stares, her mouth going slack and her eyes clouding over.

“You-”

“Bedivere, please welcome our new Arthur,” Merlin says behind her, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Arthur?” she repeats, her voice tight and through the lens of his glasses, Harry can see that her heart rate has increased. 

Harry takes one step towards her and is dismayed to see her take a similar step back. The rest of the Kingsmen say nothing. Roxy’s eyes are fixed on Eggsy and Merlin simply looks as if he wishes to get this all over with.

“You’re not dead,” she whispers.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Harry answers. “And I am equally afraid to inform you that I am, in fact, your boss.”

Eggsy’s eyes are unblinking and just when Harry is ready for the theatrics, she surprises him. She squares her shoulders and raises her chin and juts out her hand.

“Welcome back, sir,” she says, her voice clipped. 

He takes her hand and she slips it out of his grasp far too quickly to even consider it a proper handshake and with one fast movement, she’s sitting in a chair, back ramrod straight and her eyes fixed on the wall across from her. Roxy glances back at Harry and then sits when he nods. He returns to his place at the head of the table and clears his throat.

“Shall we begin?”

 

Eggsy says nothing during the meeting. Her eyes never drift towards the end of the table and when the Kingsmen politely clap to welcome Harry in as Arthur, she does so, as well, but never once moves her body or head.

This was not what he had been expecting; angry swearing, shouting, tears, even a few punches thrown but not the stiff, tense silence. Had her training completely obliterated the living, breathing, full-motion Eggsy that she had once been? Or was it simply him, the ghost?

He dismisses them at the conclusion of the meeting and of course, she is the first to leave. Roxy hurries after her. Merlin says nothing and chooses to wait until they are the remaining two in the room to raise an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

“Went better than expected,” Harry lies.

“Well done then, sir,” Merlin says and walks out.

 

He finds her at the shooting range. Not surprising. 

He waits until she completes her third round of ammo before buzzing in. He unlocks the door as Eggsy places her USP Elite on the shelf in front of her and takes off the earmuffs. She reaches into her pocket for a hairband when she notices him. Her face goes tight again, her lips pressed together and pale. 

Harry tries not to linger too long on her face and turns towards the target. Neat bullet holes dot the head, though there are a few aimed towards the heart.

“You’re doing quite well with firearms,” he remarks.

“Yes,” she says stiffly. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t have missed.”

“Certainly not,” Harry says and turns back to her. They stare at one another and Harry notices that when Eggsy’s eyes are defiant, the green in them flares up several shades brighter.

“I wish to formally congratulate you, Bedivere,” he says, outstretching his hand. “Congratulations and welcome to Kingsman.”

Eggsy doesn’t move. 

“That’s all you gonna fuckin’ say?” she spats.

“I suppose an explanation is in order.”

“No, I don’t want a fuckin’ explanation,” she interrupts, “I want an apology.”

“An apology?”

“I knew you wasn’t dead, Harry,” she says, her mouth even tighter and her eyes even greener.

He stares at her, impressed.

“I did at first,” she admits, “but then I saw headshots up close. That motherfucker shot you from less than five feet away with a semi-automatic pistol. Your head should’ve been fuckin’ blown to bits. But it wasn’t.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Well done, Bedivere.”

Eggsy holds up a hand. 

“That blood was fake, wasn’t it?” she continues.

“Actually, no,” Harry replies, suddenly grateful that he doesn’t have to lie about this. “The bullet clipped my temple. The impact did knock me to the ground.”

“So you just laid there and then pretended to be dead for an entire fuckin’ month without even a word to let me know that you was safe or home or anything!” Eggsy voice is trembling with rage and her eyes are practically emerald. 

“For the safety of the mission and the organization, it was decided that it would be better for-”

“Shut up,” she snaps. “Just fuckin’ shut up.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Harry says, in a weak attempt at humor, “I was unconscious for two weeks.”

“You heartless bastard,” she says, shaking her head. “You and Merlin both.”

She turns away, heading towards the nearest exit when Harry momentarily loses his sanity (that is what he will claim to himself and Merlin later) and for the first time in years, opens his mouth without thinking. 

“Heartless?” he repeats. “You didn’t seem that upset. I’m dead less than 48 hours and you shag some bloody princess?”

She goes impossibly still. Harry’s heart drops and he thinks, Well done, old man, now you’ve fucking done it.

He wants to say something; apologize, fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness for everything but she turns around before he can form the words. Her eyes are narrow and her face blanched white. She looks rather like a ghost, a vengeful spirit and for the first time since he’s known her, he’s afraid.

“Do not ever speak to me like that,” she says, her voice low and each word carefully enunciated. “How dare you pretend you’re anything other than a cold, unfeeling machine.”

Later, Harry will be impressed by her rather elegant insult but right now, he doesn’t want to admit her words hurt so he simply straightens and assumes the stoic voice he hates so much.

“May I remind you that I am your commander, Agent Bedivere,” he says, “and you are my subordinate.”

“Yeah,” she says, wiping at her nose, “and I fuckin’ killed my last boss and still got hired so I think I can get away with this.”

And she decks him right in the mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the rather short chapter. My plans for the rest of the story didn't fit within this one. Stay tuned and thank you for reading!

“Bloody impressive right hook,” Merlin mutters as he hands Harry an ice pack.

“Quite,” Harry replies. “Never knew someone so small could hold that much power.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and returns to his desk, his fingers deftly running over bright keys.

“If you ask me,” he begins.

“I didn’t,” Harry interrupts.

“If you ask me,” Merlin continues, “you deserved a bit more than one punch.”

Harry lowers the ice pack from the corner of his mouth.

“If I remember correctly, it was your blasted idea to remain dead,” he says archly.

“And I stand by that idea,” Merlin replies, his eyes never leaving his screens. “But it wasn’t my idea to bring up her rendezvous with the princess.” He turns, lowers his chin, and looks at Harry over his glasses in a pointedly judgmental manner.

Harry growls and returns the ice pack to his mouth, hitting the bruise and eliciting a wince. Merlin smirks.

“It was a mistake,” he admits after a few moments of silence. 

“That’s a polite word for it.”

Harry stands up and tries to assume his tall, intimidating bearing. It doesn’t work on Merlin.

“I want you to delete any and all video footage of Bedivere and I at the shooting range,” he says importantly.

“Already done,” Merlin answers. “I assumed that we would want to quell any sense of freedom by agents to attack their superiors.”

“I also want her on disciplinary probation,” Harry continues.

Merlin looks up from his screens.

“She’s one of the best agents we have and we’re already stretched thin to begin with.” Harry says nothing. “For how long?”

Harry pauses. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“For fuck’s sake, Harry.”

“Just get it done.”

Merlin sighs and nods. 

“Alright, boss,” he says. “By the way, you’re dripping onto your suit.”

“Fuck me.”

 

Eggsy is on probation for less than 72 hours when they realize she’s desperately needed out in the field. She’s sent to Texas on a mission to suppress the fomenting uprising efforts to secede from the rest of the United States after nearly everyone in the federal government blew up. She’s gone for weeks.

Harry works. He’s efficient, unflappable, and bloody good at his job. The best Arthur Kingsman has seen in years, many say.

Lancelot is a rising star. If Eggsy were less impulsive, less combative, she could probably outshine her colleague. But Harry is correct in assuming that Eggsy has no interest in that; she merely wants to work and has no desire to compete with her friend.

Slowly, the world begins to heal. New heads of state are appointed and governments manage to come up with ridiculous explanations that the gullible public accepts. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, Harry thinks.

He is so consumed with helping pull the wool over everyone’s eyes that he doesn’t realize that Eggsy has returned until Merlin sends him her debriefing report.

“Went well,” Merlin remarks over the glasses feed. “Uprising squashed and mark taken out with minimal bloodshed. She also has an uncanny Texan accent.”

“Good, excellent,” Harry says, affecting an indifferent tone.

“At least she manages to get through rural America without getting shot in the head,” he quips.

Harry switches off his feed.

 

Harry assumes that with her return to HQ and the fact that the last time they spoke, he had said some rather callous things and she had replied with a fist to the face, Eggsy would avoid him. After all, if anyone deserved the cold shoulder, it’s him.

But, once again, she is full of surprises. 

It seems that Eggsy goes out of her way to bump into him at Kingsman. When he arrives at his office in the early morning, she’s walking past the door with a cup of tea in her hand and a pleasant smile on her face.

“Good morning, sir,” she chirps.

Whenever a piece of paperwork needs to be seen by him, she’s the agent who volunteers to deliver it personally. 

“Here you are, sir,” she says as she hands documents and folders to him, a smile plastered on her face.

“Thank you, Bedivere,” he replies, barely looking up.

“Of course, anything at all for you,” she practically purrs before leaving his office.

When he heads to the commissary, she’s there, chatting and laughing with fellow agents.

When he leaves in the evening, she’s walking four steps ahead of him, often with JB in her arms and laughing as the mutt licks her face.

She’s on time for meetings; she stares right at him during them and always holds the door for him. She adds “sir” to the end of every sentence and sometimes compliments him for his cleverness.

All in all, it’s a thoroughly unnerving performance.

And damned clever.

“She’s trying to show me that I don’t matter,” he explains to Merlin, who a) has no interest in this topic of conversation and b) is quite busy at the moment. 

“What on earth are you on about now?” he sighs.

“She’s being overly kind, attentive, and professional,” Harry says. “In doing so, she demonstrates that my actions have had no real effect on her. It’s a very insidious plot and really, I should commend her.”

“Then promote her and leave me be.”

Harry glares at the back of Merlin’s head.

“I can see you,” Merlin says and Harry snatches the glasses off his face. 

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair, no longer neat at the end of a long day.

“May I ask you something?” Merlin says, turning in his chair.

Harry looks up expectantly. 

“Have you thought about just talking to her?” 

Harry scoffs and stands up.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says.

“And you’re acting like a teenager,” Merlin points out, turning back to his screens. “Which, actually, would give you more in common with her, wouldn’t it?”

Harry narrows his eyes and stalks out of the room.

Merlin waits for the door to slam shut before paging Lancelot.

“I think I finally got his goat,” he says.

“Excellent,” Lancelot replies and through the feed of her glasses, Merlin can see Eggsy sulking alone at the other end of the commissary, ignoring the other agents and rather adorable dogs running about. “I’m getting rather tired of this, aren’t you?”

“Exhausted.”

Merlin can practically hear her smirk. 

“I give it 48 hours before it’s all resolved,” she says.

“I say 24.”

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and drop me a line at http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I'm always happy to hear from you and I love to respond.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of racial violence and far-right-wing racist groups

But of course, nothing goes according to plan. Especially when you work at an international secret agency.

 

Harry and Eggsy don’t have that conversation within 24 or even 48 hours because of an uptick in racial attacks in Northern Ireland and a fellow Kingsman, Gawain, going missing while investigating.

 

Eggsy volunteers to locate her colleague, bring him home, and hand over the far-right group’s leader and collaborators to the authorities. Harry doesn’t like it.

 

“I don’t like it,” he says.

 

“No one does,” Merlin says, going over the mission dossier, “these are particularly nasty attacks. Nail and pipe bombs, gun attacks, even arson, all used in an effort to start a quote-unquote ‘race war’. Thankfully, they have so far been unsuccessful to that end but are responsible for eight deaths and 12 injured persons.”

 

“How long has Gawain been dark?” Lancelot asks.

 

“18 hours.”

 

“Get the plane ready, Merlin,” Eggsy says, standing up.

 

Harry looks up, the alarm barely hidden on his face.

 

“I believe this mission would be best suited for a more seasoned agent,” he lies.

 

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at him; he feels a sinking sensation in his stomach.

 

“I’ve taken out assassins, megalomaniac billionaires, and hillbilly anti-government lunatics,” she says. “I can handle a few scumbag skinheads. Looking forward to it, actually.”

 

There is little that can be done to deter her and even less when it’s decided that she is one of the best and with Merlin and Lancelot tracking her at HQ, they’re practically an unstoppable team.

 

That doesn’t prevent Harry from being quite ungentlemanly and resorting to his childhood vice of biting his fingernails. When Merlin informs him over the feed that Bedivere has landed and is en route to the last known location of Gawain, he decides its best to not attempt to recreate the past and watch her as she had watched him in Kentucky.

 

He informs Merlin to keep him updated with pertinent news and then goes home, feeling sick and light-headed. The lights and buildings and pedestrians whirl past his cab windows in a dizzing blur of smeared color and noise. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore how heavy and dry his tongue has gotten in his mouth, along with the constant thrumming of his pulse points.

 

 _Stupid, stupid, man,_ he thinks as he unlocks his front door, _you are a colossal idiot and a terrible agent. What on earth made you think you could handle this job?_

It should’ve been he out in the field, in Northern Ireland and Texas and wherever the hell anger and hatred was growing into violence and chaos. Not Eggsy. Yes, she had saved the world and yes, she could take care of herself infinitely better than he could at her age but… but what?

 

He had no real reason to feel guilty about agreeing to her taking the mission. She was talented and equipped for the task. He glanced at himself in the hall mirror. Christ, he looked old.

 

_You just want an excuse to feel sorry for yourself, old man. And you’re willing to disregard Eggsy’s aptitude and prowess in order to do so. What a twat, you are._

 

He drinks too much scotch and pretends to sleep. Several hours of considering just how cold his bed is go by when Merlin beeps in over the glasses feed.

 

“She’s located Gawain,” he says. “Few broken bones and teeth but alive. He lost his glasses in one of the explosions. Second-degree burns on his left leg.”

 

“Have air ambulance meet them,” Harry says.

 

“Already done.”

 

“Tell her to get out of there.”

 

“Oi,” Eggsy’s voice, breathless, comes in over the feed. Harry winces. He should’ve known Merlin would include her. “I’m not coming home till I find the fuckers that did all this.”

 

“Bedivere, get Gawain on the plane and then go back,” Merlin says.

 

No, no, no.

 

“Got it,” she says. “You outta see all the shit they got here. I never-”

 

She’s interrupted by the sound of an explosion.

 

 

“Her back was turned, thank God,” Merlin explains. “The bomb being in the next room helped, as well. It looks like it wasn’t meant for a large-scale explosion and it was quite shoddily done, even by homemade standards. The nails, of course, acted as shrapnel but most lodged into the woodwork. The few that did strike her only caused superficial damage.”

 

Harry nods and avoids looking at the screen on the wall, where the footage from Eggsy’s glasses shows chaos and debris flying everywhere.

 

“And Gawain?”

 

“Was on the other side of the room. Both will survive, though he will take a longer recovery. The bastards broke both his hands.”

 

Harry winced.

 

“The leader of the group accidentally denoted the bomb when returning to their headquarters. None too swift, he seemed. Got shrapnel right to the throat.”

 

“Convenient,” Harry murmured.

 

“Not quite. We did want more answers towards their plans and associates,” Merlin says. “Bedivere got a hold of one of his cronies but this one seems even thicker than his boss.”

 

Harry sighed.

 

“Perhaps this will scare the rest of them,” he says.

 

“Doubt it. These people are like roaches, Arthur. We’ll have to send another agent soon, most likely.”

 

Harry stood up and straightened his tie.

 

“Send surveillance to that county and gather as much intel as possible,” he says. “Keep it quiet and above suspicion. If we can get an agent to infiltrate the group, that’d be best.”

 

“Someone seasoned this time?” Merlin asks.

 

“Yes,” Harry replies. “Eggs- Bedivere, I’m afraid, still needs to work on hiding the emotions off her face.”

 

“She did well at V-Day,” Merlin points out. Harry is quiet as he heads to the windows, his hands clasped behind him. “Then again, perhaps that was because of you.”

 

“What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“Last thing I said to her before she went in was that she was making Harry proud,” Merlin replies indifferently.

 

Harry stiffens.

 

“I’ve had quite enough of your ham-fisted matchmaking,” he grits out.

 

Merlin shrugs.

 

“Then go speak to her and finish this once and for all,” he says. “It’s a lot kinder for all of us.”

 

He walks out before Harry can ask him what he means.

 

 

Eggsy is sitting up in her hospital bed, tapping away at a tablet.

 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Harry remarks as he walks in.

 

She doesn’t look up.

 

“You’re the one who taught me the importance of knocking first,” she replies.

 

“Merlin said you were decent.”

 

She snorts most unattractively and Harry finds himself smiling.

 

“You did well, Bedivere,” he says, daring not to inch closer to her bedside.

 

She finally puts down the tablet.

 

“Fat lot of good it did,” she grumbles. “I was supposed to round up all of them and drop ‘em off with a bow on top. All I was got was one.”

 

“And he’s beginning to divulge some important information,” he says. “Plus we have an agent attempting to infiltrate the group now.”

 

She looks up and practically lights up.

 

“Oi, that sounds awesome,” she says. “Can I go along when I’m all healed up?”

 

“You want to spend time among racist skinheads?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No, but I want to see the look on their blank faces when they find out I’ve double-crossed them,” she says and looks far too excited at the prospect. “It’d be fuckin’ great.”

 

“You’re talents are required elsewhere,” he says soothingly.

 

Eggsy’s eyes turn to him and he is again struck by how green they are.

 

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” she asks, confused.

 

“Your eyes,” he admits and mentally kicks himself.

 

“What about them? Something wrong?” she asks.

 

“No, no, they’re just green.”

 

Eggsy stares at him and then barks a laugh.

 

“You’re an odd duck, Harry,” she says. “I mean, Arthur.”

 

“Not particularly used to it, either,” he admits.

 

“Doesn’t suit you,” she observes and then backtracks. “I mean, the job suits you. You’re bleedin’ good at it, I just meant the name. Arthur. You look like a Harry to me.”

 

“How convenient then, that I am one.”

 

She laughs again and Harry thinks that perhaps this is happiness.

 

“Are you still angry with me?” he asks, ignoring how juvenile he sounds. He suddenly doesn’t care.

 

Eggsy sobers and looks down at the black screen of the tablet in her lap.

 

“Yeah,” she admits. “Still gonna be pissed at you for a while.” She shrugs and looks up again. “Think it’s just my default state.”

 

Harry quirks the side of his mouth up.

 

“Well, I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

 

“Nah, you really don’t.”

 

He nods. He takes a step closer and again, is dismayed to see her shrink away.

 

“No, Harry,” she says softly.

 

“No what?” he repeats blankly.

 

“Just, no. “ She shakes her head and runs a head through her dirty blond hair and Harry wonders, for the first time, if she dyes it. What a stupid question.

 

“If you want things to go back to the way they were, before Kentucky, before the dog test,” she begins, sighing, “then I’m afraid you’re just gonna be disappointed.”

 

“I see,” Harry says, quelling the rising tide of bile in his throat.

 

She glances up at him and Harry looks at the bruises, the scratches, the dark circles under her eyes, and her hair, greasy and unkempt. She looks lovely and all too untouchable.

 

“Get some rest,” he says. “Heal up, Bedivere. We need you out on the field.”

 

He turns and walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and please let me know what you think! I want to do justice by Harry and Eggsy.
> 
> Say hello at http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> I always love to chat!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of domestic violence

It’s decided that Morien should infiltrate the hate group as he has a) experience in working among anti-government and domestic terrorist groups and b) is the whitest man at Kingsman, according to both Lancelot and Bedivere (“He works out to Taylor Swift,” Eggsy tells Harry one day with a decidedly judgmental look on her face).

He’s sent off and Eggsy heals in the infirmary, still annoyed with herself for not completing the mission. No matter how many times Harry or Merlin inform her that her work was beneficial, she still pouts and immediately heads to the shooting range once she’s dismissed from medical. She needs to let off a little steam.

In the subsequent weeks, Harry notices that she needs to let off steam more often than not. She looks tired, even by Kingsman standards, and once he heard her snap at Lancelot in the commissary. Of course, she immediately apologized and the two friends hugged (well, Roxy hugged Eggsy and Eggsy rolled her eyes but smiled) but nonetheless, it was out of character.

Roxy later takes Harry aside and says, “Sir, may I have a word?”

“Of course, Lancelot.”

“It’s about Agent Bedivere.”

Harry stiffens but nods imperceptibly.

“I think she needs a bit of a break,” she explains, looking nervous.

“A break?”

“Maybe,” and she hesitates before continuing, “I have no authority on these matters but I do know that Bedivere is having some… situation at home. Perhaps she could work on more domestic missions?”

Harry merely looks at Roxy and in the ensuing silence, she clearly feels that she has overstepped her bounds. 

“I mean-”

“You are Bedivere’s closest friend here, are you not?” Harry asks abruptly.

“I- I suppose so, sir.”

“And you are adept at reading people. One of your particular skills.”

She smiles softly.

“I will take it under consideration. Thank you, Lancelot. Dismissed.”

The situation in Northern Ireland is slow going. The survivors of the hate group were understandably wary of allowing in new members but after several weeks, Morien makes it in. Lancelot is sent to Egypt and Gawain heals enough to return to some deskwork. Bedivere works locally.

If she notices that all of her missions are within Great Britain, she says nothing. More often than not, she’s rarely out of London. She thwarts a plot to kidnap Prince Harry (“I wouldn’t mind kidnapping him, either,” she blurts out as Harry merely raises an elegant eyebrow), recovers two stolen Greek vases from the British Museum, and, in the rare instance where she’s outside of the city, breaks up a human trafficking ring in Leeds. She’s very busy and very successful.

A few weeks go by and Morien sends word that he has information to relay. A meeting is set for 9 o’clock the following morning.

Harry, always a few minutes late, is not surprised to see that Eggsy is not there yet. Merlin, as usual, is standing with his clipboard and Lancelot, freshly arrived from Cairo, sits in what was once Harry’s usual spot, to the right of Arthur.

Morien buzzes in.

“Glasses on, please,” Merlin instructs.

“Bedivere hasn’t arrived yet,” Lancelot points out.

Merlin glances at Arthur, who nods.

“Go ahead, Morien.”

Morien, or his holograph, begins discussing his findings on the hate group’s plans and supporters. Luckily, Bedivere’s inadvertent explosion and Gawain’s capture has spooked many of them and they are reluctant to act any time soon.

Harry listens and pointedly does not look at his watch. Nor does he wonder where Bedivere is and if she’s all right. It wouldn’t be the first time an agent has skipped a morning meeting and it isn’t like her presence was required here. She has little to do with the mission now that Morien was heading it. So Harry listens and nods and is suitably impressed with Morien’s work when his private phone buzzes in his pocket. 

He quietly takes it out and glances at the screen. His heart momentarily stops and then speeds up: the security system he had installed in his home has alerted him that there is someone outside his front door. As Morien continues his presentation, he swipes his thumb across the screen and looks at the grainy footage from the CCTV camera at the front of his house.

“If you will excuse me,” he interrupts, standing. “Morien please continue. Lancelot will give me a brief summary on anything I miss.”

He walks out before he can get a response and immediately heads to his office.

The door closed behind him, he dials a number.

“I knew that would work,” Eggsy says casually but Harry can detect the relief in her voice. “You care more about your house than official business.”

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Are you alright? What’s happening?”

“Calm down,” Eggsy says but Harry doesn’t. “Look, I… I didn’t know what to do. I came here because I have nowhere else to take them.”

“Them?”

Eggsy sniffs and the pain in her voice makes Harry go cold all over.

“Dean found out where we live,” she says. “He beat it out of Mum and he tried to break in. Didn’t work, of course but… Harry, he threatened to kill me and Mum and take Daisy!”

“Where is he?” Harry looks down and sees that his free hand is in a fist. He flexes it open.

“Knocked out in my living room,” she says. “I grabbed Mum and Daisy and drove ‘em here and I know it’s shit of me and I should’ve just taken them to a domestic violence shelter or hospital but Harry.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence and Harry runs a hand through his hair, urging his stomach to stop rolling.

“I’ll be right there. Stay in the car.”

“Harry, I-,” she hesitates and then whispers, “I wanted to kill him.”

A part of him wants to say that it isn’t a big deal; she’s killed people before. So had he. But like those people in the church, it’s different. It’s unpleasant. It makes one question everything.

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

She hangs up. Harry stands and in two long strides in already out into the hallway.

“Sir, I have the notes from Morien’s-” Lancelot begins but then stops short and Harry wonders how thunderous the look on his face must be right now.

“Thank you, Lancelot, put them on my desk. I’ll see to them later.”

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes, I-”

“Arthur, I want to speak to you regarding the Chechnya operatives,” Merlin says, appearing quite suddenly behind him. 

“Later,” Harry grits out.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks, his eyes narrowed.

“I have a private matter to deal with. Merlin, you’re in charge for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it Eggsy?” Lancelot asks, her eyes wide and fearful.

“She’s quite fine, I just spoke to her,” Harry says gently. 

“But-”

“Lancelot, I assure you that Eggsy is quite alright and will be back here shortly. I promise.”

She swallows and nods, looking to Merlin for guidance.

“You’re going home?” Merlin asks. 

“Yes. Just briefly.”

“Well, make sure your feed is live.”

Harry nods and waits until he is out and into the cab to take off his glasses, disconnect them and slip them into his pocket.

 

He has the cab drop him off a block of his home. No need to start rumors about agents visiting him at his private residence. Besides, he’s quite certain Eggsy wouldn’t be pleased to see anyone else from Kingsman at the moment.

The car parked in front is nondescript and as he turns the corner towards it, Eggsy looks up from the driver’s seat. She immediately unlocks the door and steps out.

“Harry, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. He was gonna kill her and I thought of calling Roxy but I knew she was in that meeting and just got back home and your place is safer but still, I should’ve-”

“Are you alright?” Harry asks firmly.

Eggsy blinks at him.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright.”

Harry reaches up and smooths the wisps of hair out of her face. She has a split lip and bruises. He momentarily sees red.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“No, just that,” she admits. “Knocked him out before he could do any real damage.”

“And your mother?”

“Nearly took her arm out of her socket but she’s okay. Didn’t touch the baby.”

“And he’s at your house?”

“Yeah.”

He nods and glances back at the car. Through the windows, he can see Eggsy’s mother and a small child in her lap. His blood suddenly runs cold. The last time he had seen her, he had ruined her life.

Eggsy’s eyes follow his gaze.

“I told her about you,” she says softly.

Harry turns back to her with alarm.

“Not about Kingsman,” Eggsy says, huffing a laugh. “I’m not an idiot. I told her you were the one who offered me my job. That you did it for my Dad. She nearly had a fit in the car but I told her that you’re… helping me. And you can be trusted.”

He nods. 

“I’d rather not upset her again,” he says softly.

Eggsy looks back and nods at her mother, who is watching the two warily, her grip tight on her youngest daughter.

“She won’t like you much,” she says. “But she says she trusts me so she trusts you.”

Harry takes his key out of his pocket and straightens. He walks over to the car and opens the back door. 

“Mrs. Baker,” he says politely. “I do wish we could’ve met again under better circumstances but please, welcome to my home.”

Eggsy’s mum stares at him as if he had just sprouted a second head. It’s only when she sees Eggsy nod behind Harry that she climbs out of the car. She has a nasty red mark on her wrist from where that bastard had grabbed her but other than that, she looks well enough, if not terribly skittish. Harry clears his throat.

“You most likely don’t recall but my name is Harry Hart. You’ll be quite safe here, I can assure you,” he says gently. “And comfortable. I have a guest room for you and your youngest here.”

“Daisy,” Eggsy says and stands beside her mother. “Never introduced you two, yet.”

“No, I have not had the pleasure,” Harry says and smiles at the small blond girl in her mother’s arms. “Hello, my dear, your big sister has told me an awful lot about you.”

Daisy stares at him, her entire right hand in her mouth and drool dripping onto her shirtfront. She must see something she likes about Harry because she grins, hand in mouth and all, and shyly hides her face in her mother’s neck.

Harry’s smile broadens.

“Come on, Mum,” Eggsy says and takes her mother’s arm gingerly. “I got you.”

Harry hands her his key and follows them up the steps to the front door, which he holds open for them.

As they enter, his private phone buzzes again and he quickly takes it out of his pocket and glances at it. A message from Merlin.

 _What’s going on?_

_Everything’s alright_ , Harry types back. _I do need you to contact the authorities and send them to Bedivere’s house. Also, begin the process for a new safe house for her. The current one is compromised._

_Is she all right? Her family?_

_All safe, Harry replies. But don’t expect me back for the rest of the day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave comments here or at my blog: http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of domestic violence

Eggsy leads her mother and sister into Harry’s kitchen and immediately heads to the pantry where the first aid kit is resting. Harry tries not to think too much about the fact that she knows her way around his house and instead, pulls out a chair for her mother.

“Here, Mum,” Eggsy says, turning back with a small tub of salve in her hand, “lemme see your wrist.”

“What about you, Eggsy?” Michelle says, her eyes wide with worry.

“‘M fine,” Eggsy murmurs and all but pushes her into the chair.

“He hit you, baby,” Michelle says softly, tears springing to her frightened eyes.

“And I got him back good, it’s alright,” Eggsy replies.

Harry clears his throat awkwardly.

“Are you certain you won’t want to see a doctor?” he asks.

Eggsy turns to him and glares.

“I’m fine,” she grits out. She turns back to her mother and takes her hand and gently rubs salve on the dark bruised skin around her wrist. Daisy, sitting in her mother’s lap, watches in fascination.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Michelle whispers as Eggsy works in silence. 

“We’re gonna get a new place,” she answers firmly. “And he’s gonna get fuckin’ locked up.”

“But Eggsy-”

“No more buts, Mum,” she says and stares hard into her mother’s eyes. “I’m done with this. He’s not gonna hurt you or Daisy anymore. You got that?”

Michelle hesitates and then nods and Harry rather feels that he is watching a private exchange.

“I was only gonna say,” Michelle continues as Eggsy closes the tub of salve and returns it to the kit, “how are we gonna know if he gets sent away for good this time?”

“I will take of that,” Harry says abruptly and both women jump. They clearly had forgotten he was in the room. “I can assure you both that Dean Baker will not be roaming the streets anytime soon.”

Michelle stares at him, her eyes narrowing as they sweep up and down the length of his body. Harry suddenly feels very, very small.

“Is that fair?” she asks, turning to Eggsy. “I mean, I know we shouldn’t care but-”

“It’s over, Mum,” Eggsy says. “We’re starting over completely, the three of us. Got it?”

Michelle nods and brings Daisy closer to against her chest, nuzzling her face against the top of her blond hair. Eggsy watches for a few moments before deflating and turning to Harry.

“I can get us a hotel room,” she starts before Harry raises a hand.

“I do have a guest room that is large enough for you both,” he says. “We’re already working to find you a new house.”

“But-”

“I even have a crib somewhere in the cellar, from when my nieces visit.”

Eggsy’s eyes widen comically and she stares at him as if had just said the most ludicrous thing imaginable.

“You got nieces?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Eggsy’s lips quirk up into a smile. “You’re Uncle Harry?”

Harry smiles and feels himself flushing for some odd reason. “Well, naturally.”

Eggsy laughs and shakes her head. Harry’s smile falls when he sees the cuts and bruises on her face.

“Here,” he says, “let me.”

He reaches for the first aid kit but is intercepted by Michelle, who apparently can move extraordinarily quickly and silently for a woman holding a toddler.

“I got it,” she says and nudges Eggsy towards the chair. “Sit.”

Eggsy glances back at Harry but does as her mother says. Harry clears his throat again and lets his hands fall uselessly to his side. 

“I’ll just check that the room is ready,” he says lamely before escaping the kitchen.

The room, of course, is spotless and in pristine condition. Harry decides to change the sheets anyway and after remaking the bed, stares at it for a long while, reluctant to interrupt mother and daughter again. He’s awkward and uncomfortable and is reminded of how he felt as a teenager after his growth spurt: lanky and self-conscious and with the overwhelming dread that he was just in the way.

The sound of Eggsy’s voice calls him back to the present. He returns to the kitchen where Eggsy is putting on her jacket.

“I’m going back to the house,” she says. “Gotta get our stuff.”

Harry shakes his head.

“I’ll send for it.”

“Then I’ll head to work.”

“Eggsy, please,” he says. “You’ve had a trying morning. You’re welcomed to stay here today.”

“Come off it, Harry,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“What about your mother and sister?”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Eggsy-”

She grabs his arm and drags him into the living room, her voice low and dangerous.

“I need to get away for a little bit,” she whispers. “I can’t stay here looking at Mum like this. I need to… need to do something.”

Harry glances down and does not comment about the way her hands are shaking. He understands.

“Do you think your mother will be comfortable staying here without you?” he replies, knowing it’s a bit of a low blow but he’s quite desperate. 

Eggsy lowers her head and steps back.

“Tomorrow,” Harry says firmly. “Tomorrow, I promise you can go back to work and destroy as many targets at the shooting range as you want.”

She glances up and smirks. Harry smiles again and, in an effort to avoid reaching out to her, puts his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll do some research on the best organizations and counselors for survivors of domestic violence in the area,” he says.

Eggsy nods and looks away but he doesn’t miss how she is rapidly blinking her eyes. The desire to take her in his arms and magically take away her hurt is nearly staggering. Harry wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

They are interrupted by the sound of his doorbell. Harry is merely curious until he sees the spark of fear in Eggsy’s eyes and hears the frantic footsteps of Michelle. She appears in the doorway, pale and shaking, Daisy whimpering in her arms.

“Stay here,” Harry says to both before carefully heading towards his door. He reaches into his pocket for his phone to check the CCTV feed when he hears Merlin’s voice call, “Open the fucking door, Harry.”

Harry relaxes and unlocks the door quickly, only to be greeted by both Merlin and Lancelot.

“Is everything alright?” Roxy asks worriedly. “Eggsy hasn’t been answering my texts and- Eggsy!” 

She pushes past Harry and runs to Eggsy, who grins and hugs her tightly.

“I was so fucking worried about you!” she exclaims. Then she spots the smiling Michelle Baker and she rushes to hug her, too. “You’re okay? The both of you?”

Harry is grinning lopsidedly at the sight until Merlin pointedly clears his throat.  
He turns back to Merlin and looks at him expectantly.

“He has been arrested and his files of criminal activities are with the Met,” Merlin said. “We’re transferring Eggsy’s information to a new house, unless… this is a permanent solution.” He raises an eyebrow and Harry blanches.

“Certainly not,” he says, aghast. 

Merlin nods and walks into the house, extending his hand to Eggsy.

“Good to see you safe, Eggsy,” he says. “And pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baker. My name is Gavin. I work with your daughter.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at the revelation of Merlin’s real name but says nothing. Michelle, meanwhile, is obviously charmed by Merlin and smiles for the first time that day.

“Hello, Gavin,” she says. “You know, I used to work at a shop. We were never as friendly as you lot are.”

Roxy puts her arm around Eggsy. “We’re like family at Kingsman,” she says.

“I can see that,” Michelle replies.

Harry closes the door behind him and sighs. He hadn’t had this many people in his house in years. He runs a hand through his hair and doesn’t notice that Merlin leads them into the kitchen where he intends to make tea until Eggsy touches his arm.

“You alright?” she asks softly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies. 

Eggsy offers a half smile and takes him by the arm.

“Come on, let’s go have tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and don't forget to stop by my tumblr to say hello! http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

Harry rarely remembers his dreams. Even when he was in a coma (which he has experienced far too many times in this last year), he remembered little: a flash, a blurry image perhaps but nothing more.

Therefore, he is quite surprised to find himself dreaming the morning after Eggsy, her mother, and sister arrived on his doorstep. At least that’s what he assumes when he wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs. He likes a fry-up as much as the next Englishman but working for Kingsman did not allow for full sit-down breakfasts.

It must be a dream.

Then he hears a crash and Eggsy’s voice crying out, “Daisy!” 

Harry bolts out of bed and barely has his crimson robe around his shoulders when he rushes into the kitchen only to see Michelle Baker at the stove, Daisy sitting on the floor and laughing as Eggsy cleans up the pots that Daisy had apparently been using as a drum set.

“Harry!” Eggsy says, standing up straight. She winces as one of the pot covers clatters to the floor. “Sorry. We woke you up, didn’t we?”

Harry stares and allows a few moments to appreciate the domestic sight in front of him, committing it to memory to enjoy more fully later.

“Actually, no,” he says, shrugging into his robe, “I was awakened by the smell of breakfast.”

“Yeah, Mum wanted to thank you for letting us stay.”

Michelle doesn’t look up from the pan of bacon and Harry isn’t surprised to see her ignoring him. Frankly, he is only surprised that he had not awakened in the middle of the night to see her standing over his bed with a pillow in her hands, ready to smother him.

“That’s very kind of you,” he says instead and steps towards the cabinets, pointedly ignoring how Eggsy looks with bedhead, boxer shorts and an oversized t-shirt with toothpaste stains on the front. “May I make tea for anyone?”

Eggsy takes him up on his offer on behalf of herself and her mother who is still not speaking. Harry busies himself with the kettle and cups and tries not to smile too widely when he catches Daisy grinning up at him and offering him a wooden spoon. 

“Dais, where did you get that?” Eggsy asks and takes it from her. “You know better than to wander through other people’s things.”

“Quite all right, my dear,” Harry says smoothly, pouring the hot water. “I didn’t even know I had a wooden spoon to be honest.”

Eggsy smiles crookedly as she sweeps Daisy up in her arms and sits at the table with her sister in her lap. Michelle places full plates of food on the table and Harry is stunned by the sight. He wonders if he had mistakenly slept through the rest of the week and it is actually Sunday. He glances at the clock above the stove.

“We got about 45 minutes,” Eggsy says, following his eyes again. She has an annoying habit of doing that. “Plenty of time to get to work.”

Harry hesitates before eating.

“You and I shall share a cab then?” he asks.

Eggsy shrugs between mouthfuls. 

“Sure. Why not?”

He pauses and looks down at his plate. 

“I… well, you and I will be leaving for work together from here.”

Eggsy looks at him peculiarly before relaxing. 

“So what?” she asks. “People have thought a lot worse than that about me.”

Harry can tell from the sour look on Michelle’s face that this is a sore subject so he says nothing more except his compliments to the chef. Michelle merely nods and smiles tightly before taking Daisy from her sister and feeding her.

“You two won’t be bored here, will you?” Harry asks as he drains his tea.

“They’ll be fine,” Eggsy interrupts, waving a hand nonchalantly. “Besides, M- Gavin says they should have the new place ready in a couple days.”

Harry nods and tightens his grip around his teacup momentarily. Then Daisy blows a raspberry and he finds himself smiling again.

 

He and Eggsy are in the cab on the way to the shop. He’s staring pointedly out the window at the passing buildings and pedestrians when she lightly touches his knee.

“I’m sorry about Mum, by the way,” she says gently.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he replies quickly and turns back to the window.

“No, there is,” she sighs. “She’s being rude.”

“I can easily understand why.”

“But you’re being so kind to us.”

“First impressions are notoriously difficult to erase, Bedevere.”

She nods and looks down at her lap.

“You’re sure we’re not putting you out?” she asks. “I mean, can’t imagine you having a toddler in your house recently.”

“Well, it has been over a decade since my nieces were in diapers so yes.”

Eggsy grins again and runs a hand through her hair.

“Still hard to imagine you as Uncle Harry.”

“I’m sure it is,” he says, allowing himself a smile, “but it’s quite true. I was even a child once.”

“No,” she gasps, feigning shock. “I thought for sure you were created in a lab by Merlin.”

Harry tries not to read too much into that comment and instead smiles crookedly. 

“I’m afraid not. I’m sadly still flesh and blood.”

They arrive at the shop.

 

Harry remains there as Eggsy continues on to HQ. She has some training to do and is anxious to return to the shooting range. Harry does not leave his office and though he tries to concentrate on the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he finds himself repeatedly glancing at his watch.

He wonders if this is what it is like to be newly married: unable to sit still at work and anxious for closing time to return home. To her.

Of course, it’s not just her. Daisy is a delight and her mother… well, he can understand all too well why her mother despises him. He rather despises himself, too. Perhaps they could bond over that.

Eggsy is sore when they return home (to his house. It isn’t their home, he reminds himself) from training and takes a hot bath and promptly falls asleep after eating. Michelle stares at Harry from across the table and takes Daisy into her arms.

“I’ll do the washing up,” he offers quickly. “Thank you for a lovely meal. Again.”

Michelle nods. “Good night, then, Harry,” she says though it’s barely twilight.

“Good night.”

It’s the first words she has said to him in nearly 48 hours. That’s a start, he thinks, up to his elbows in soapy water.

 

The first thing Harry is aware of when he wakes is that there are people in his house. It’s a strange sensation, knowing that there are living breathing people passing the night with him here in his quiet house.

He runs a hand over his face and realizes that his mouth is dry. He briefly considers a glass of water from the bathroom but decides he needs something stronger. He sits up and glances at the watch on his bedside table. It’s two in the morning. The witching hour. Or is that three in the morning?

He doesn’t bother with his robe as he quietly leaves his bedroom. The guest room is down the hall and he hopes the floor doesn’t creak too loudly as he descends the stairs to the kitchen. 

His hair is falling into his eyes as he turns the corner so he doesn’t notice the woman sitting at the table right away, a teacup in front of her. Instead, he is taken aback when he hears Michelle say, “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He’s grateful that he does not yelp in surprise but he is rather annoyed that he neglected his robe. He feels stupid like this: barefoot and clad in pajamas in his own house. He wills his heart to settle down and quickly runs a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to tame it.

“No,” he says and finding nothing to do with his hands, rests them on the back of a chair at the table.

“Cup of tea?” she asks.

“I- uh…”

“Or something stronger?” she interrupts and actually smiles at him.

“Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do.”

He heads to the sideboard and pours himself a drink and, feeling her eyes on his back, decides to sit down across from her.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep either,” he says before taking a sip. “Is the bed uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” she says and the look on her face reminds him suddenly of his own mother when he was 15 years old and she found a packet of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. She had sat him down, placed the crumpled packet on the table and demanded he eat them. When he stared at her incredulously, she had said, “You want them so bad? Go on. Eat them.” And he had managed to get through one and half before vomiting violently and never touching a cigarette again. Mothers, he had decided long ago, are the most terrifying and powerful creatures on earth.

He takes another sip to steady his nerves and thinks that this is all quite ridiculous. He’s older than her for God’s sakes. Why should he be so nervous around her? 

Then she drops the bomb.

“Do you want to sleep with my daughter?”

Luckily, he had already swallowed so they were spared the comic reaction of him choking on his drink. Instead, he nearly swallows his tongue and blinks several times as if to clear his head.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is that what this is all about?” she asks. “You want Eggsy?”

“Mrs. Baker-”

“Michelle.”

“Michelle, I can assure you I have no interest in that.”

“You a gay fellow, then?”

Harry would really rather discuss anything other than his sexuality right now so he hesitates. While he considers this loaded question, she continues.

“Why are you doing all this for her?”

“I owed her one, to be frank,” he settles on.

Michelle leans back in her chair and narrows her eyes. Eggsy doesn’t much resemble her. She must look like her father. The thought makes Harry feel slightly sick.

“You think just because you act like a posh gentleman you can trick her?” 

“No, I-”

“Because I know blokes like you. I know what you’re after.”

“Mrs. Baker, Michelle, I can safely say-”

“Just because I made a cock-up of my life doesn’t mean I want the same thing to happen to my daughter.”

“I understand completely.”

“So bloody well stay away from her.”

“Well, I am technically her boss,” he quips and inwardly winces. Now is not the time to be clever. 

Michelle stares at him and her eyes go cold. In that way, she does resemble Eggsy.

“Why did you have to take her?” she whispers.

“Take her?” he repeats, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I knew she didn’t work at no tailor’s,” Michelle continues. “I knew that long ago. No girl who works at a tailor shop comes home at all hours with bruises and disappears for weeks on end. And when I saw you, I knew she was mixed up in the same business that killed her father.”

Harry looks down into his glass. He can almost see his reflection.

“Why did you have to take both of them?”

He takes a deep breath. Now or never, old man.

“Your daughter called me for help,” he says finally, looking up at Michelle. “I offered her a job because I saw right away that she’s special. That she is capable of great things. She needed guidance and a path. I gave both to her and then stepped away. She has decided to continue because she enjoys it and because she’s quite good at it.”

Michelle’s eyes never waver from his face. She never even blinks. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares. Then, just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, she sniffs.

“I don’t know what you lot do,” she whispers. “And I know enough not to ask too many questions so that I don’t have to lie when someone asks me about my daughter but I will say this: if she gets hurt in any way, I’m coming after you.”

Harry nods.

“I may not have done anything to protect myself,” she continues. “But I’ll be damned before I see my daughter hurt. Understand?”

“Quite.”

“And I mean that in every way.”

“Sorry?”

She shakes her head and looks as if she wants to laugh if it weren’t for the tears standing in her eyes.

“You must be blind as bloody bat,” she says. “You gotta be if you wear those thick glasses.” He merely looks her. “And if you can’t see how Eggsy acts around you.”

Don’t read too much into it, old man.

Michelle sighs and looks down at her teacup and Harry suddenly has the urge to reach out and rest his hand on her arm in comfort. 

“I don’t know why she’s decided on you,” she whispers. “A part of me thinks she’s crazy but,” and here she raises her eyes to meet Harry’s, “if you are what she wants, I need to know one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes.” Harry is shocked it’s that easy to say aloud.

Michelle cocks her head to the side and stares at him and Harry stares back. He’s not ashamed anymore.

“If you hurt her in any way,” she says, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“I can assure you,” he replies, “if I cause your daughter pain, I will happily hand you the weapon myself.”

Michelle stands up and quite suddenly is beside him. He looks up at her from his chair and widens his eyes as she places a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know who you are,” she says, “and I don’t know what my daughter is involved in but I trust her. She’s the only person I’ve ever trusted, actually. So if she trusts you then there must be something there.”

He merely looks at her and swallows. She squeezes her shoulder and turns toward the door.

“Get some sleep, Harry,” she says over her shoulder. “You look like shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please feel free to drop me a line at my tumblr: http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> Comments, as always, are true love. Thank you again!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I think this is the end for this introductory story of fem!Eggsy and Harry Hart! I have ideas for the two of them so this won't be the last you'll see of me in the Kingsman fandom. If you do have any ideas or prompts, please do not hesitate to reach out to me either here or on tumblr: http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'm always anxious to continue writing and excited to see what others are looking for. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and again, comments are love!

Harry isn’t so foolish as to think that all will be well now that Eggsy’s mother approves; well, sort of approves. She hasn’t killed him yet, at the very least.

The next couple of days pass in a blur of mirages of domesticity, paperwork and a particularly unpleasant meeting with accounting. Merlin, luckily, has more of a head for numbers and takes the lead during the meeting. Harry listens but thinks of Eggsy sleeping in his house, eating there, and more than once, laughing. She’s in Oxford at the moment and most likely, won’t be home in time for dinner. The idea of eating silently in front of Michelle rather terrifies him. If it was just Daisy, he would be fine. The toddler seems to light up whenever he walks into the room and he finds her a joy to be around. No wonder Eggsy adores her sister.

The meeting comes to an end and Harry’s notepad is covered in spirals and doodles. He learned little. As the accounting team leaves, Merlin stands and approaches Harry.

“Morien is nearly done with the Northern Ireland mission,” he says, taping at his clipboard. “Last time he checked in, he was compiling evidence for the authorities. He should be back at HQ by the end of the weekend.”

“Excellent,” Harry says absently. “Commend him for me.”

“Gawain’s physical therapy is going well but he will still be unable to do field work for at least another month.”

“Understood.” Harry stands and walks to the side table, pouring himself a cup of tea. 

“Lancelot has a lead on that weapons dealer in Beirut,” he continued. “She flies out tonight.”

“Tell her to keep her feed open 24/7. She does not go dark once.”

“And Bedevere’s new residence is ready.”

Harry stops pouring sugar into his cup for less than second. Merlin notices. 

“And her previous address?”

“No longer available for Kingsman agents.” Merlin crosses his arms over his chest, his clipboard tucked under his arm. “That Dean Baker is facing a long time locked away.”

“I’m sure the punishment fits the crime.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t,” Merlin replies. “I’m just saying that someone did their homework on that man.”  
“Don’t be coy,” Harry snaps, frowning at his tepid cup of tea. “I did as soon as I met Eggsy.”

“Well done, sir,” Merlin says. “You can inform your housemate that her stepfather won’t be bothering her or her family anymore.”

Merlin turns towards the door when Harry suddenly calls out his name.

“Yes?”

Harry hesitates before looking back up at his friend.

“Do you think I’m a fool?”

“Do I really need to answer that?” Merlin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m being serious,” Harry sighs. He takes off his glasses and his eyes are terribly wide. “Am I acting foolish?”

Merlin relents and quirks a smile at his friend.

“Harry, you’ll only be a fool if you do nothing,” he says. “Is that a satisfactory answer?”

“Not really but thank you, anyway.”

Merlin smirks and rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind him. 

Harry puts on his glasses and buzzes Eggsy.

“Bedevere?” he says.

“Yes, Arthur?” she replies. 

“Merlin has informed me that your new residence is ready. I’ll have him forward you the address.”

There is the slightest of pauses and Harry’s heart leaps.

“Excellent,” she says instead. “Thank you very much, sir. For everything.”

“Of course,” he replies. “You may take the afternoon off to arrange the move.”

“Thank you.”

He takes off his glasses and disregards the tea. It’s gone cold, anyway.

When he returns home, it’s after 7 o’clock and the house is silent. Eggsy had taken his advice and left to help her mother move their few belongings to the new house. Merlin had updated her file with the new address. She’s in a nice if solidly middle class part of town. There’s a park nearby. That’ll be good for Daisy, he thinks. 

The house is silent when he walks in; there are no sounds of laughter or Daisy’s squeals of delight or delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s just him now. And Mr. Pickle. Fuck.

He goes upstairs, straight to the guest room. The bed is made. Aside from an upside down pillow, it rather looks as if it hasn’t been used. He sits on the bed heavily and considers stripping the bed to wash the sheets but then it’ll really be like no one has been there. Oh for God’s sakes, stop being a creep, old man.

He sighs and stands up and begins the laborious process of unmaking the bed when he sees them:

A pair of earrings on the night stand. He recognizes them. They’re diamond studs. Well, cubic zirconia. Eggsy had told him once that when she turned 13, all she had wanted were diamond earrings. She knew, rationally, that her mother could not afford such a ridiculous extravagance but when she woke up on her 13th birthday to the sight of a velvet jewelry box on her wardrobe, she had never been happier.

Eggsy was not one for jewelry but she loved those earrings and wore them frequently when they didn’t interfere with a mission. Harry had admired them once and she had merely laughed, saying they weren’t much better than glass. He said it didn’t matter and she smiled.

Harry thinks it odd that she had forgotten them here and without thinking, picks them up and carefully places them in his pocket. He moves without rational thought. These are important to Eggsy. They have to be returned. It is as straightforward as that.

 

He drives himself to her new house; waiting for a cab to arrive is unacceptable. He is on a mission, after all.

Her house is totally illuminated; it looks as if every light in every room is on. He wonders if he should be worried but then he sees Eggsy move past a bare window and finds himself smiling. All is well.

He parks and climbs the stoop. He knocks only once before the door swings open and is greeted, face to face, with Lancelot.

“Oh!” Roxy exclaims. “Sir, I… didn’t know you were coming by.”

“Oi, is that the take-out?” Eggsy calls and peeks her head out from doorway. Her eyes widen. “Harry! What are you doing here?”

“Good evening, Roxanne, Eggsy,” he says and tries not to be jealous. “May I come in?”

“Course,” Eggsy says and walks up to the door. Roxy steps back for him to enter and closes the door behind him.

“I thought you were flying out tonight,” he says to Roxy, who looks properly chagrined. 

“Mer- Gavin said early tomorrow morning would be better,” she says softly as Michelle appears in the hallway, apparently also looking for take-out. She merely nods at Harry and disappears again. “And I wanted to help Eggsy move.”

“I see,” he says and turns back to Eggsy. He wants to ask why she didn’t ask for his assistance but he bites his tongue.

“Are… do you need something, Harry?” Eggsy asks, running a hand through her hair.

Harry reaches into his pocket and retrieves the two diamond studs, holding them out in his palm. 

“I believe these belong to you,” he says.

Eggsy’s eyes widen and her face lights up. Harry commits it to memory.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, Harry!” she exclaims. “I thought I’d lost them! I was so upset!” 

She grabs them and curls her fist around them. She looks up and her smile is dazzling. 

“They were in my guest room,” he replies, curling his own fist where her fingers had touched his palm. “I found them this afternoon.”

“Christ, thank you so much!” she says and in a blur of motion, throws her arms around his shoulders and kisses him square on the cheek. She releases him and carefully puts the earrings on, the smile still on her face.

Harry prays that he isn’t too flushed but when he glances at Roxy and sees her trying valiantly not to smirk, he knows it’s a lost cause.

“Well, I knew they were you important to you,” he says, clearing his throat. “Thought it better than to wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Seriously, thank you, Harry,” Eggsy says and her hands fall to her side. “For everything.”

“Nonsense.”

“Will you stay for dinner?”

“I- aren’t you tired of having dinner with me?” he asks.

Eggsy rolls her eyes. 

“Come on, don’t be a prat,” she remarks, grinning. 

“Is Roxanne staying?” he turns to look at her fellow agent but finds she is gone. They are alone in the hallway.

“Yeah. Girls night, y’know?” she says. “But you can crash.”

“Far be it for me to crash a girls night,” he says. “I understand they are sacred events.”

Eggsy laughs and grabs his arm.

“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun,” she says. “We haven’t even got a table yet. We were gonna have a picnic in the lounge.”

“Another time perhaps.”

“Soon?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” he breathes.

Eggsy smiles at him and Harry thinks that right here, in sweatpants and a faded Beatles t-shirt, hair falling out of a messy ponytail and pale with circles under her eyes, she has never looked quite so beautiful.

She takes a step forward and gazes up at him.

“You’re too tall,” she complains.

“I’m sorry?” he replies, confused by the change in topic until she reaches up, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses him.

It isn’t a particularly remarkable kiss. In fact, it’s very gentle and over much too quickly but Harry feels dizzy, nonetheless.

He opens his eyes (when had he closed them?) and stares down at her, jaw slack. She grins and says, “Thank God you’re not wearing your glasses. Don’t want to shock Merlin.”

He huffs a laugh. 

“He’s not easily shocked,” he says softly.

“Good,” Eggsy replies and Harry feels rather weak-kneed. 

The doorbell rings and Daisy, from the lounge, shouts, “FOOD.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Eggsy asks.

“I-” Harry begins and realizes, quite abruptly, that he cannot refuse this woman. “Alright. I’ll stay. If I’m not intruding.”

“No,” she leans up and kisses him again. “Never.”

She smiles and opens the door, pays for the food and he helps her carry it into the lounge where a blanket and drinks are already set up. Daisy grins at Harry and reaches her tiny arms up to him. He helps deposit the food in the center of the blanket and he sits on the floor between Eggsy and Daisy, who decides that she is most comfortable in his lap. 

Roxy engages Michelle in easy conversation and Eggsy laughs quite a lot. Harry is quiet throughout the meal and is content merely to watch them all when Eggsy leans over and says softly, “Harry? You alright?”

“Yes,” he replies, an easy smile on his face. “I’m quite alright. Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, of course, and the Kingsman fandom looks incredibly friendly so say hello! I'm quite friendly, I promise.
> 
> http://hollymartinswrites.tumblr.com/


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